


001

by soroeris



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M, I hope you find it enjoyable enough, I just copied a random part from the actual text, I wrote it like ummm, RIP, a draft that I'll probably never finish, also, because I was new to the fandom back then, because i don't, but either way, expect terrible ooc-ness, lol also I'm terrible at summaries, not really certain, ok, or something, pls, shoot me, two years ago
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 15:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12890724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soroeris/pseuds/soroeris
Summary: She gasped amidst a sob, looking up at him with what looked like guilt-clouded eyes, and an inkling of... fear?Was she afraid of him?





	001

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first off, I should tell you that I just finished re-reading through this and wow, I didn't even bother changing it up cause it's so horribly out of character -- If I tried to write it out again, it'd be an entirely different plotline... ( not like this one has one though ) .. Anyways, I'll leave you up to your reading; feel free to leave a comment if you'd like me to finish this up- Enjoy!

###  flinch 

Her toes curled; her fingers grasped for the sheets underneath her obstinately as an absolute nerve-wracking, delirious sensation coursed through every fibre of her being.

"K-Kaneki..," she gasped hazily.

"A-Are you okay?, his whispered words made her heart leap profoundly. "Do you want me to stop?," she tried to focus her vision on his visage, only to find a heavily concerned look marring his features.

As soon as his concern had surfaced, she wanted to wipe it away, push it down into the dimmest of depths, to never appear again.

With great effort from her side to avoid wincing as she leaned up, she connected her lips to his own in an open-mouthed kiss, that oh-so-temperate feeling she had come to obsess over running through her tongue as it tangled with his.

She attempted to deliver the purest of passions she had harbored within her fatigued heart the whole time she had spent isolated from him into this one lewd-looking, heated kiss.

With her mind blank, forgetting any pointless thoughts, blacking out all wistful memories, she managed to maintain her focus solely on him and his sweat-slicked body.

She presumptuously shifted in a way that drove him deeper inside of her, stretching her in a way that made her vision go white.

She yelped as she struggled with the sensation, whilst he had croakily groaned as her tepid warmth enveloped him, a string of saliva connecting their kiss-swollen lips.

Her breath faltered as she doubted with what she'd do next. With the most minute of movements, a ridiculously great wave of pain would wash over her, so she patiently waited for him to recover from his bliss so that he'd make the decision.

He blinked as he came back to his senses, his gaze sharpening down on hers, eyes widening at the sight of glistening tears brimming at the edges of her luminous eyes.

"T-Touka..," he stuttered, watching as the tears gradually spilled and trailed down her temples, due to her supine position. Reaching a hand towards her face, he brushed a few sweat-greased tendrils that lingered on her forehead and tucked them behind her ear.

"I'm f-fine, r-really, you don't n-need to-" a sob fell from her lips; she hastily reached a hand up to muffle the succeeding sobs.

Her shoulders shook tenderly as he stared at her in awe. He slowly shifted in a way so that he could withdraw himself from her without inflicting any further unnecessary pain.

She gasped amidst a sob, looking up at him with what looked like guilt-clouded eyes, and an inkling of... fear?

Was she afraid of him?

-

As soon as he had procured himself from her, she had shakily made her way to her room's bathroom and shut the door behind her, leaving Kaneki to his own devices.

Why was she afraid of him? 

Did she really think that he would.. _harm_ her? For something as pointless as this? 

Just _what_ exactly had happened during his prolonged absence of three years? 

What had happened that had caused her to change so.. drastically? So capriciously?

He hears a shuffle as Touka exits the bathroom. Her eyes are downcast, avoiding his gaze. She holds a dry towel in her still visibly-trembling hands.

"Here," she says surprisingly tranquil as she hands the cloth for whatever reason, he couldn't determine. He was too focused on figuring out what was wrong. 

Nonetheless, he reaches out and obtains the item in question, just to settle it down on his lap and fiddle around with its threaded fabric. 

She sits on the edge of the bed, aloof, her eyes still not daring to meet his own. 

With her back to him, he can’t help but feel as if a huge boulder had fixed itself between them, segregating him from knowing the depths of her miserable woe. It was as if the person who sat before him was as broken as he was.

A great feeling of incorrigible conviction wells up inside of him, blooming like the most sunburst of flowers. 

“ _Aid her in her retrieval of her mislaid pieces, and she’ll help you recuperate your own astray ones._ ”

He’s the piece she’s been so desperately foraging for in order to keep her solemn sanity, and she is _his_.

She’s exasperatedly, infuriatingly waited for three seemingly endless years, yet she has dandily managed to keep her patient facade.

Is this what she seems to be underneath that laboriously constructed veil of forged joy?

"I'm sorry," she says so quietly Kaneki almost failed to catch her words. "If you want to try again, I-"

"Touka," he calls out, and she abruptly halts.

He's waiting for her to turn around and witness his sincerely forgiving look, not that she had to apologize for anything in the first place.

But her eyes remain glued to the floor.

"Touka, look at me," he half-heartedly orders, knowing that his attempts are to no avail.

Finally, he approaches her, lingering as he scrutinizes her for any hint of discomfort before he fully takes the place beside her. He finds none, so he advances.

He shifts until he's comfortable beside her, not too close and not too far, respecting her bubble of space.. for now. 

He sits there and endeavours to spill a thought, or maybe two. But nothing comes out from his aridly dry mouth. 

Submerged into the jumble of muddled thoughts that is his mind, he jumps at the unforeseen jolt of warmth that rushes through his right arm as she settles her lithe fingers on his white-knuckled fist.

He looks down as he loosens his fist and swiftly intertwines his calloused fingers with her soft ones. 

“Kaneki,” she whispers, soothingly. Her free, frigid hand slides across the arch of his neck and settles on his jaw, forcing him to meet her gorgeously lavender eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says, words full of wretched sobriety.

He squints as he probes her orbs to a great extent, deeply in search of the fear, guilt, and unshakable despondency that he had observed not too long ago. 

He fails, only to be met with the same sad smile he had been given the very first time they had spontaneously met at :re.

But this time, he isn’t a stranger to her. He isn’t Haise Sasaki.

He’s Kaneki Ken, one of Touka’s closest peers. 

_Her missing piece.?_

He can prod, and poke, and enquire, and examine her whole.

He can get to the bottom of the enigma that clouds her movements, her eyes. 

He can unveil, disclose, and dislodge whatever conundrum has imposed such unfavourable agony.

“Touka,” he finally manages to choke out as he builds the courage to say what needs to be said. Her eyebrows rise, inquisitively, wordlessly inquiring him to go ahead.

“I-I-well you see,—I think we should at least be frank with each other if you look forward to continuing this.,” he beckons towards their entwined hands; she merely blinks.

He clears his throat before he resumes, “ If there’s anything I can do for you, i-it’s provide an ear that will listen to whatever you have to say, and a shoulder on which you can cry on as much as your heart desires,” he stutters, struggling to deliver a clear message.

He squeezes her hand reassuringly as he awaits her response. “So please tell me, Touka-chan, what has been tormenting you as of late?”

She sighs as she draws her eyes up to him, a wary look adorning her violet-hued eyes. 

“It’s nothing,” she says firmly, stubbornly.

He almost falls for the cotton-soft smile she delivers, but he knows better than to be fooled by a professional’s exposed feelings.

He will thoroughly dig out and swallow every single word, letter, syllable that she has been able to contain and bear with throughout his absence.

He leans in and molds his lips to hers, slowly, languidly, prompting her to lose tolerance with the perceptible lack of passion from his embrace.

But she manages to restrain herself, the libido in her delicate and swift movements he had lustfully observed earlier had absolutely vanished. 

He parts his lips from hers, and reaches up to grip the now warm hand that still lingered on the base of his neck.

He holds her hand with both of his, lifting it up to his puckered mouth. He lays a quick peck on the numb tips of her thin fingers, and he looks up at her. He finds her contemplatively staring at the contact, her plump bottom lip quivering at the sight.

He pauses, just to lean up and nimbly bite the lurid, rotund lip in between his teeth, and tugs. 

She moans as she whole-heartedly returns the kiss, shifting towards him to deepen the embrace and re-ignite the incredibly pleasant sensation that had left her feeling lightheaded.

Just as his thoughts had started turning into a feverish mire, he broke away, hissing at the loss of warmth.

She whimpers, chasing his lips with her own just to be cut short in her pursuit by a hand hovering above the lower-half of her face.

“I can’t enjoy this until we’re fully honest with each other, Touka, so please just tell me what the matter is already,” he says, out of breath.

His eyes bore into hers before she looks away, retreating from his lap and consequently standing up. 

“I already told you, and I’m going to repeat it, nothing’s wrong. So just quit thinking there’s something that’s bothering me because there really isn’t!,” her tone raises, menacingly, threateningly. 

“I know something’s wrong when I see it, Touka, and it’s crystal clear that there’s something very wrong here,” he argues, and he sees her eyes set ablaze, a nostalgic ember ignited within them.

“What is it, then? If it’s so crystal-clear to you, then what’s wrong with me!?,” her voice is loud, and he shoves any sentiments of regret to the back of his mind. This is what he came here for, and there’s no going back now.

“Everything is wrong here, Touka, and you know that,” he states, matter-of-factly.

She grimaces at his confidence, repulsed by it. “Define everything,” she spits out.

His breath shakes as he unwillingly forces the next words out of his mouth.

_“You.”_

Her eyes widen instantaneously, and repentance clutches his seemingly stoic heart tightly and insignificantly rips it into the tiniest of pieces as translucent tears well in her eyes.

This is for her, he repeats within the hollow of his narrow-minded skull as his fingers twitch. Anguish fills his every limb, lethargy weighing at his shoulders as he fights the increasingly tremendous urge to rephrase himself.

Her breath falters as she poorly attempts to rapidly blink away the tears that now stream down her cheeks. She hisses as she looks away from him. 

“I’ve always known that,” she croaks out, quietly. Her grief-filled tone makes him take several steps forward. 

“I’ve always known that I was a horrible, human-eating, murderer,” she breathes profoundly before continuing. “Thanks for the grim reminder.”

She’s wrong, she’s got it all wrong.

He grips her shoulders tightly, turning her around so that she’s facing him fully, and he shoves her back until she unceremoniously meets the room’s wall.

“That’s not what I meant!,” he’s furious as he lodges a fist on the wall, right beside her ear. Thin interstices now surround his ever-hardening fist as he feels his knuckles agonisingly split.

“Then w-what did you mean?,” she inquires through a stutter, the same clue of fear now residing in her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> 01010011 01101000 01101111 01101111 01110100 00100000 01101101 01100101 00101110


End file.
